Their Hallelujah
by abiirosee
Summary: Songfic; AU; Josiah's the type of guy who loves music. Migdalia, his friend and crush, just can't seem to appriciate it. Perhaps there is some hope to this cold and broken hallelujah. Trade fic for Rhe'anne Lynn


_**A/N;;**__ …Getting this up. Rea just left a few minutes ago and I wrote this. Then, gotta work on some fictrades and all._

_Between my group of friends, Rea and I are definitely competitive friends. Everything one of us does, the other has to outdo. But this has nothing to do with that. Just a random fun fact._

_Erm. Yeah. Chardonnay's mom and Josiah's dad are dating because of this one roleplay we had… A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…_

_This is totally late 'cause it was kind of due in June. She drew me tons of pictures… And I promised her this and three other fics. So, yeah, it's kind of late. I'm never this late with trades (see why I told you that fun fact? Time is also a competition. We raced to see who could get to Spanish faster today.)_

_Kind of._

_AND FIGHT THE POWER! CHANT WITH ME, PEOPLE OF ! SONGFIC! SONGFICS! SONGFICS!_

…_Yeah, I'm sorry._

Making Fiends © Amy Winfrey  
Migdalia, Josiah © Rhe'anne Lynn  
Hallelujah © Rufus Wainwright

* * *

"_I've heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the lord.  
But you don't really care for music, do you?"_

Lightly letting his fingers pluck at the keys, he had his hand in one hand, pouting a little bit as his father chatted giddily with this woman he had met days earlier.

And months earlier, he would tell Josiah he'd have been better of gay, with how insane his mother was. Josiah wouldn't exactly _agree_.

But God damn, that woman was a fucking bitch. Looking back on his childhood, she had attempted to either rid of him, fix his problem herself, or both at the same time. A woman with knives is not to be trusted, is what he would say if asked what he learned from his childhood.

And if he could say anything at all.

You see; the dull brown haired boy who was often at his piano if not being dragged into some batshit adventure was a mute. His vocal cords did not form correctly, and it took his parents years to figure it out.

His father enrolled him into a private school to avoid being teased, because he refused to have him classified as "challenged," because he was a smart kid. His mother switched him out, probably in hopes he'd get beaten to death in a public school.

Damn, that bitch was _insane_.

"Josiah," his father called, tugging at his shirt, the bright yellow dress shirt still a bit wrinkly. "How about this?"

Shaking his head, he turned back to the piano. "Yeah, I look better with dark colors."

Nodding in agreement, Josiah stood up, opening the bench and pulling out piles of blank sheets, where he could write his own music. He wasn't good at it granted, but it gave him something to do before his piano teacher remembered he was his student, and brought him some more pieces to play.

Ironically, his piano teacher was also his best friend, who was just too careless for his own good, Xavier, who was actually really good.

"Okay, well, I'll be back before one, hopefully. Wish me luck."

Josiah gave his father a thumbs-up, his blank expression ceasing to leave his pale face. His father said goodbye.

Josiah closed his eyes and massaged his temples and began to pluck at the keys again.

"_It goes like this: the forth, the fifth; the minor fall and the major lift.  
The baffled kind composing hallelujah."_

Letting whatever melodies came into his head slip from his finger tips onto ivory keys, he closed his eyes, trying to recall everything about scales from his lessons and what he learned at school when he was younger.

Frowning as he only had a measure down on the paper, he tapped the keys repeatedly.

"_Hallelujah.  
Hallelujah.  
Hallelujah.  
Hallelujah."_

Pressing his face into his hands again, he stood up, and began to pace, thinking about _Xavier _fucking _Minty_ could write music with such ease.

**Just write what's in your heart.**

That was true, yes, but unless he wanted to turn into the next song writer for a screamo band, he'd have to keep everything bottled up.

**Love songs. Easiest shit to write. Ever.**

Words he had told the abnormally tall teenager played in his head, and he walked out from the piano room. Yeah, they were easy to write… If you actually liked someone.

And if that someone liked you.

Honestly, the one girl he liked, the only girl who was able to communicate when he arrived from Clamburg, didn't like him, and he didn't blame her. First off, she was this tiny, little Latina curly who was not even five feet yet.

He was a towering six-something feet, abnormally tall for a sixteen year old, and was now almost towering over his father. He had a face that showed little or no emotion, and when it did, it was usually anger over something or another.

Also, her features seemed to shine in comparison to his. He had pale skin, dull blue eyes, and dull brown eyes. She had the darkest, sun kissed skin one could hope for at a tanning booth, and she had this dark brown, almost coffee black hair, with big, auburn-like colored eyes.

See? Totally different.

And also, there was personalities; she was a peppy, writer who either was smiling or trying to beat the shit out of Xavier, and that was easy for the girl, since they were so close in height. She loved being the center of attention, for reasons he only supposed was because she was often forgotten by her own parents. That was going to fuck her up royally, as if it probably hasn't, with how flirty she could be with other guys, something her sister taught her.

He was the stand-offish type, not usually smiling, and trying not to strangle any of his friends. He never liked being in the spotlight, even if it was for the piano. Xavier learned that the hard way, but he seemed to draw attention, due to his ability, or lack thereof, to speak…

Also, she hated music. She didn't like any kind of music. That's inhuman. How can anyone not like music? Whereas, he loved everything about music; whether it was played professionally in a recording studio or in the kitchen with spoons.

And with his inner musings turning, he opened the door and walked out.

Pacing the streets with a bored look painted on his face, he stopped by the nicest place in town (and it was still pretty bad), and peered into the window.

…What. The. FUCK?

That was not Chardonnay Garcia's mom. That was not Aims Garcia, the totally Finnish woman who had often times tried to hook her up with _him_ because he was a "much better choice than that short little boy you like so much."

Alas, it was; his dad had hooked up with Donnay's mom.

Oh, the sweet scent of insanity lingers from that family. Their mom was probably a borderline-nutcase, and Chardonnay just **happened** to be a pyro, and the little brother… Totally socially awkward.

And if things are as serious as his dad claims, they could probably end up living together.

Fan. FUCKING. Tastic.

Turning on a pivot, he took only one step (which is two in regular people size, mind you), and ran right into someone.

"_Your faith was strong but you needed proof.  
You saw her bathing on the roof.  
Her beauty and the moonlight over threw you."_

"Joey! I was just about to drop by and see you!" He raised an eyebrow, as those sun kissed arms wrapped around his abdomen, the part where she could reach for being only four feet, seven and three-fourths inches.

He waved his hand from side-to-side, shrugging as she latched onto him.

"What have you been up to?"

He shrugged, bringing his thumb to his fingers and putting his two hands together like that, and then pushed them out, spreading his fingers, to indicate **nothing**.

"That's nice!" she grinned, latching onto his arm, meeting his eyes with her own. "Well, since you're doing nothing, you wanna do _something_?"

He hesitated, then shook his head. He then pushed her off the he could pretty much perform a story, his hand motions translating somewhat into **no, I really should get back home. I was working on a new piano piece and needed a walk to clear my head.**

At that, the female frowned, her skin reflecting the setting sun, her eyes shining brightly with annoyance. Clicking his tongue against the roof of her mouth, she made a face. "Oh, well then."

He nodded, and turning around, stealing one last look into the window, and walked home. It wasn't long before night set in, and he heard bubbly footsteps behind him. He checked over his shoulder to see the female from earlier following behind him.

Rolling his eyes, he quickly did another series of hand movements, roughly asking **what the hell are you doing? Shouldn't you be home, Migdalia?**

She paused, and shook her head. "They wouldn't notice, _Josías_."

She referred to him by his Spanish name sometimes. "Besides, I've always wanted to watch a musician at work." Waiting for her to catch up and she grabbed onto his arm, she began, "_Javier_ is so mean! He won't let me watch him work.

'_Maybe if you weren't so negative about music, he'd let you_,' the tall male thought bitterly.

"But you're not mean." With that, she cuddled closer to him, and smirked. He shook his head and opened the door to his house. She detached herself and began to wonder around, as if she had never been in the house.

Josiah left her to her musings, and stalked away into the piano room, and something hit him.

Yes. It was a song, and he hoped it would sound good. Each key he played for practice rang in his ear, and he smiled at how it all started to mesh together.

"Josiah! Stop that bull shit and get in here!" Groaning, his creative streak interrupted, the brown haired male stormed into the other room, the female with pin straight coffee black hair glanced at him.

"_She tied you to a kitchen chair.  
She broke your throne.  
She cut your hair."_

When he arrived, she was sitting at a stool by the kitchen counter, eating some strawberries. "Thank you. It was getting awfully annoying."

He stomped his foot, his hands went insane, signing out every profanity, and something along the lines of, **well, damn. I'm sorry! You're the one who wanted to hear me play some FUCKING music!**

She crossed her arms as he sat down in the stool across from her, and Migdalia said, "I wanted to watch you work."

That did it. He punched the table so hard, it left a dent. The Latina stepped back, biting her lip. His hands flew up, signing, **I WAS WORKING!** He flipped her off at the end.

She stomped her foot, and flew across the kitchen to him. Suddenly, it was more-so a one-sided fight as she began to scream at him, and he only signed angry replied back.

Finally, Migdalia stated, "Excuse me if I don't appreciate King Josiah's FUCKING music!" She pushed him back, making sure the chair fell with him.

He hit his head on the floor, and groaned out in pain, attempting to stand up. When he did, he hovered over the female; Josiah's dull baby blues locked onto her almost red-colored eyes. He stormed up to her, obviously towering over her.

The two stayed that way, until, Josiah turned his back to the Ecuadorean-Mexican female, retreating to the piano room.

Migdalia went back to the bowl of strawberries, picking on up and biting the end of it off. Suddenly, the music resumed, and her face scrunched up in pure hatred. The music was sharp, edgy, like she was feeling right now about her said "best guy friend."

How can two people, so different, be good friends?

Tapping her fingers as the music stopped, then played, then stopped, then played, and repeated that pattern for five minutes, she groaned and stood up.

Finally, she moved from her spot, following the music, having breaking its pattern of stopping then starting, and ran her hand along ivory walls.

"_And from your lips, she drew the Hallelujah."_

Walking into the piano room, she noticed it was parked in front of a big, picture window, and he was facing the door.

He stopped abruptly, writing down something. "May I see?" He paused, probably having forgotten her existence, and then nodded. She made her way over to the piano, and he slid over, allowing her room to sit. He gently grabbed the paper, and handed it to her.

Her eyes danced along as it followed the complex rhythms and notes, but she didn't know what it meant. To her, it was all upside down lollipops, lollipops, or lightning bolts. There were more, and she didn't know how to describe it.

Migdalia must have looked confused, because Josiah took the paper from her, signing to her to watch, and let his long fingers dance against the keys. Her face remained confused; not amused.

To her, it was just noise. To him, it meant something.

"What are you going to call it?" she said when he finished, a rough three and a half minutes she had waited. "All songs have a name."

He frowned, disappointed she didn't have a picture painted for her in her head, but she wasn't like that, and he had to remember that.

He paused thinking, then, taking the ink pen he worked with, he pulled it off the thing, and wrote down the title. "So?" Migdalia asked.

He didn't reply right away, but he pointed to her. "Me? About me, what?"

He bit his lip, letting her see the paper now, with a title. Her eyes glanced down, and she paled.

She was seriously, almost white. And she'd have to be shocked really bad for that.

"Y-you named it after me?" she set the paper down and shook her head. "Thanks, I guess." She watched him lean down, keeping his hands on the bench, looking into her eyes. She closed them. "Joey, I- -."

Her thoughts were cut short by his lips being gently pressed into hers. It was just that; simple touching of lips; nothing more or less. But, it was meaningful enough as it was.

He pulled apart, and Migdalia watched him sit down, "Play it again, please?"

He smirked and nodded. He played, and when it got to the repeating part, almost like the chorus, she sang, though it wasn't as pleasing to the ear as other's singing, it just seemed to fit; her low voice with the melody.

"_Hallelujah.  
Hallelujah.  
Hallelujah.  
Hallelujah."_

Maybe… The song was her hallelujah; their hallelujah. It helped him realize that love was not a victory march.

Maybe just some hallelujah.

A cold, broken, hallelujah.

_

* * *

_

THERE! I HAVE FINISHED IT! I know, it's not the whole song, but verses one and two are probably my favorites.

_Now… Off I go to buy some book covers._

_**- - Dar**_


End file.
